


Mononoke

by robotfvckers



Series: Halloween Strawpoll Prompts [6]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Body Worship, Dark Tower References, Demon Hanzo Shimada, Established Relationship, Hunter Jesse McCree, If You Squint - Freeform, Junkenstein AU, M/M, Size Difference, Size Kink, also stealing lines from mononoke hime in ref to hanzo because, anyways i'm dead, it's that good shit, sorry stephen king
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 08:29:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12553384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotfvckers/pseuds/robotfvckers
Summary: The gunslinger and the archer grow close on their journey to Aldersbrunn, but some secrets must be told.





	Mononoke

****“You fight like a demon,” the gunslinger says over the crackle of fire. “Where’d ya learn to wield a bow like that?”

Jesse stares into the flames, huddling closer. The nights had grown long, and the deepening chill seeps through his leathers. Their other two companions stand at the edges of the firelight, lost in a conversation of their own. Hanzo, seemingly impervious to the cold, says nothing.

Jesse is used to it; Hanzo does not speak idly, preferring his often contemplative, sometimes morose bouts of silence. He’s caught Hanzo staring into the distance more than once, seeing things he cannot, or perhaps he just savors the scenery, captivated by the many haunting, dangerous dreamscapes they have explored on their way to Aldersbrunn. The gunslinger fills the silence easily enough, idle chatter that sometimes spurs Hanzo to answer. Each response, a memory, laugh, scoff, or a rare, highly prized joke, is like a turn in a game of cards. Hanzo plays close to his chest, hesitant, slow to trust, but Jesse doesn’t mind. He’s good at cards.

A few weeks ago, Hanzo might’ve let the question slip into the sky with the sparks and smoke. Instead, he answers.

 _A winning hand_. Jesse thinks.

“My father taught me archery when I was a child. I favored the sword but used it to commit an atrocity. I could no longer bear to wield it.” Hanzo’s eyes reflect the flicker of the fire’s glow, and Jesse waits for his next words, studying the card laid down. “Stormbow is an extension of myself.”

He turns his head to the side. “Cannot the same be said for you? I have heard that gunslingers of old did not kill with their guns.”

Jesse smiles, taps a cigarillo out of his pocket. He lights it with a wayward ember, nerves soothed as he takes the first drag.

“They kill with their hearts.” Jesse murmurs. “You’re full of surprises, ain’t ya.”

Hanzo grins.

“And are you the last of them? An anachronism.”

“Same kind of different as me, archer.” He exhales a plume of smoke into the night sky. “But you’re right. The world’s moved on.”

Hanzo nods. “But we are still here.”

Their eyes meet across the fire.

“Yeah, we sure are.”

* * *

They’ve had a few close calls; there’s no lack of dangers in a world that’s moved on. First is the sea of will-o’-the-wisps and kelpies in the swamplands, luring them to bottomless depths but meeting their own ends. Then a cult disguised as a fishing village, worshipping a being that was not a god but something that could be felled with arrow and bullet. Closest to Aldersbrunn, they clash with a slaver ring led by a seer who used his power to hunt runaways. The soldier is a gruff man that Jesse cares little for, but one of his idioms holds true: humans often are the worst monsters of all.

Somewhere between one terror and the next, their talks grow intimate. The archer and the gunslinger huddle shoulder to shoulder near the fire, share bedrolls when the fire’s light would mean their deaths. Hanzo tells him of his great atrocity, and Jesse speaks of a man with a scarred smile who turned him from a dark path only to be lost himself.

Jesse doesn’t remember who makes the first move, but once calloused lips touch it devolves quickly. With sake on their breath, rough hands thread through hair and twist into tattered clothes, finding heat and solace in each other.

It should be strange in the pale dawn, but Hanzo smiles, soft and small, when Jesse opens his eyes. He catches his chin, kisses away the morning chill from the archer’s lips.

It’s frightening, how much he relies on Hanzo’s quiet presence, how his chest warms when he looks to him only to find the archer already turned his way. When they reach the gates of Aldersbrunn, Jesse wishes they were anywhere else.

In the long hours before dawn, as waves of robotic abominations threaten to overwhelm them, he crack wises though his soul trembles.

“Hey, archer! Let’s you and I celebrate after this. Drinks’re on me!”

“Focus on the task at hand.” Soldier shouts from the ramparts. Ana only laughs and fells an abomination in the soldier’s blindspot.

“Practice your own advice, Jack.”

* * *

The witch clutches her side, bleeding sluggishly over the cold pavement. Jesse tastes the coming rain in the air; the clouds block the early rays of dawn.

“Spare me.” she pleads, but it sounds like a curse.

The witch’s eyes burn with a hellish glow, the kind that shakes Jesse through. She is the one who corrupted the Reaper, damned one of their family to his unlife. Her gaze shifts to Hanzo, sweat beading above her rosy lip. “Your brother yet lives. Let me go, and I will tell you where he is.”

“Don’t listen to her.” Jesse says. “She can’t be trusted.”

Hanzo stays quiet for a long time.

“If you let her go, she could return to terrorize the village,” the alchemist chides, but says nothing more.

Hanzo stares, and Jesse knows how he struggles, how Ana had said she too met a man who could wield a dragon, just as Hanzo does.

“Tell us the location of the reaper _and_ the swordsman.” Jack demands. “We must finish what we started.”

* * *

The witch flees with the last shadows of the night, and the four stand at a crossroads.

The alchemist, the soldier, and the archer make their choice, and they spend the early morning in the halls of Aldersbrunn, recovering from the siege. The inhabitants are gone, and the cavernous space feels haunted. Jesse finds Hanzo in a secluded bedroom, reclined on a wide cushioned chair, but the lines of his body are anything but relaxed. Jesse tracks the rouge along his cheeks.

“That’s a lot of drinkin’ you’re doing for one that has a brother to find.”

The archer frowns.

“You promised a drink after the battle had been won.” Hanzo sighs, and bone-deep exhaustion replaces his tinge of annoyance. “You are leaving.” He stares at his hands clutched about his jug.

“No.” And the statement shocks the gunslinger as much as the archer. Widened eyes meet over the scant feet between them. He clears his throat.

“Ana and Jack, they’ve been looking for Gabriel for years. I trust they will be able to go it alone for a while.” He hesitates, picturing Gabriel’s smile, the feeling of his hand on his shoulder, then shakes his head; Gabe wouldn’t want him to chase his ghost, not when—

“Let’s go together, Hanzo. We make a fine team, don’t we?”

Hanzo doesn’t move, brows drawn high, mouth opened in a small ‘o’. It’s not a face Jesse’s seen before, and it tickles him, even as the weight of his words settles over the room.

“I do not doubt you wish to help, but…” Hanzo says. “You would not leave them without deeper cause. It is why I cannot allow you to accompany me.”

“What? Why?” Jesse steps closer. “I...you want me to say it?” Jesse weaves his fingers into the tangled mess of his hair.

“I like you, Hanzo. A lot. I can’t let you do this alone.”

“You hardly know me.” Hanzo says, voice oddly neutral, and it chills Jesse through.

“Even after everything that’s happened betwe—”

Hanzo raises his hand, and Jesse falters at how grim his face draws. There are no cards, no more rounds to play. Everything’s on the table. _All or nothing_.

“If you truly wish to accompany me. To continue being...whatever we are. You must see. I cannot have you abandon your quest for a monster.”

“Hanzo—”

“Please.” The plea shocks him silent again. “Close your eyes.”

There are so many things he wants to say, but he holds his questions behind his teeth and listens.

Nothing happens for a few moments. Then the air shifts. The hairs along Jesse’s arms raise, but the sensation is familiar. It’s the feeling just before the dragons swell from Hanzo’s tattoo, the same tattoo Jesse has mapped with rough hands and a hungry mouth as he worshipped the man painted by its beauty.

The energy settles, and Hanzo sighs.

“You may look.”

Jesse doesn’t say anything, just takes in the sight, piece by piece. The jug in Hanzo’s lap is dwarfed by his large, clawed hands, slate blue like the rest of him. He follows Hanzo’s tattoo up the thickened muscles of his throat to his thinned lips, framed by sizable fangs, to Hanzo’s closed eyes, ringed in crimson markings.

The touch against Hanzo’s cheek startles him, and the milky glow of his eyes steals Jesse’s breath.

“Well, look it you.” Jesse smiles, wolfish, and Hanzo _tsks_.

“Does nothing curb your salaciousness?” But through his annoyance, Hanzo relaxes, a hesitant smile tugging his lips.

“You’ll have to try a little harder to get rid of me.” Jesse murmurs. He sidles into Hanzo’s lap, and still the archer hesitates, hands twitching at his sides. The gunslinger catches their lips together, soft and sweet, brushing between his fangs. “I got questions, but. I think we deserve some rest.”

Jesse weaves his fingers between Hanzo’s much larger ones, tugs him towards the ancient bed in the corner of the room.

* * *

Hanzo wakes to the feeling of warmth along his front. Jesse watches him from his spot against his chest, looking more comfortable than he’s ever seen him.

“Enjoying the view?” Hanzo murmurs, traces his clawed fingers down Jesse’s spine.

“Always do.” Jesse’s smiles, plants a kiss on the upper planes of Hanzo’s chest, tugs gently at Hanzo’s gi to reveal more of him. He eyes the arcs and valleys of the man before him, teases a calloused fingertip beneath the swell of his newly exposed nipple, grinning when it peaks, and Hanzo exhales in a quiet huff.

Jesse dips his head, kisses Hanzo along his new, more dangerous markings, mouths at his pulsepoint, sluggish at first, but quickening as he cups Hanzo’s chest, fingers glancing against dark nipples. The presses become more insistent, and Hanzo weaves his fingers into Jesse’s hair, dirty but soft in his grip. They had not showered after their battle, but they had been on the road for so long. What was one more dalliance while they were coated in the sweat and grime of battle?

The gunslinger grows hard against his stomach, grinds lazily as he adds new marks with his lips along his tattoos, tugs and teases his nipples until they swell beneath his hands and tongue.

“Jesse. Are you sure...like this?” Hanzo mutters, staring at his partner beneath his lashes, mind hazy with the pinpoints of pleasure Jesse nurses from his body.

“If you turn back now, I won’t forgive ya.” Jesse murmurs against a peaked nipple before sealing his lips over it, sucking the flesh into the wet heat of his mouth.

Hanzo presses Jesse’s head down, urging him harder, groaning when tongue and teeth catch against the tender peak. He hadn’t known he would enjoy such attention there before Jesse had shown him.

Jesse had shown him so much. Where once they could rut against one another, Hanzo is too large to catch against him fully. His cock aches in a searing line against his stomach. Jesse shifts lower, stilling once he feels Hanzo’s cock against his thighs.

Hanzo would laugh at his awed expression if he wasn’t so enamored by it, the way Jesse wore his emotions so openly.

The gunslinger looks between their legs, finally settling on Hanzo’s cock, dark purple and leaking against his skin, red markings twisted around its shaft.

Jesse whistles.

Hanzo does laugh then, but the sound peters out as Jesse fists his hands between them, eager to feel the hot, heavy thing in his grip.

“Damn, Hanzo.” His voice is tight, dry. He swallows. “I...I’d be a real workout to get this to fit.”

Hanzo grins, cannot help it, preening at how flushed Jesse gets, cheeks rosy beneath his beard, brown eyes glazed and heavy-lidded.

“Oh, is that how you wish it? Speared open on my cock?” He means it as a joke, but Jesse stills, flushes so darkly it touches the tips of his shoulders.

“Hun, you can’t...don’t tease me unless you plan to make good on your words.” Jesse whines, bites at Hanzo’s chest while he works his hand beneath Hanzo’s cockhead.

The stimulation is minimal, his hand not quite big enough to touch everywhere Hanzo needs it, but it’s good too, teasing in a way that crazes him, forces hot, quiet sounds from his lips.

“Hm, we would have to work up to it. Perhaps as we travel…” Hanzo meest Jesse’s eyes, and the gunslinger smiles, mindless and eager, grinding into the hot space between Hanzo’s hip and thigh.

“Y-yeah...I’d like that.” He mumbles absently. “Yeah…” Jesse bites his lip, fumbling for his discarded clothes and finding a small vial of oil. He slicks his hands, and Hanzo hisses as the warm wetness catches against his cock, Jesse’s hand all fluid heat as he strokes him, teases his other hand beneath his balls.

Jesse swears as his finger slides inside Hanzo easily, larger everywhere, it seems, but still Hanzo grips him, sucks at his hand as he fingers him while staring up the heaving planes of Hanzo’s body.

“God, you’re beautiful.” Jesse breathes like a prayer, and Hanzo moans, chest tight, face and body burning through as Jesse finds that spot inside him, a spot that Jesse had shown him, made him so eager and sensitive for it.

“Flatterer.” Hanzo murmurs, slithering his large hand down, grabbing Jesse’s hips, stilling his insistent rutting to capture his cock in his grip. Jesse is not small, but in the hands of a demon it’s more than manageable. His strokes with the circle of fore finger and thumb, eased by Jesse’s messy slick, and the gunslinger swears, gritting his teeth, pet names and pleas bubbling from him in a litany.

“N-not too much, sugar. Wanna fuck you.”

Hanzo chuckles, shaky and low.

“Do it then. Hurry.” Hanzo shifts his hips, jostling the gunslinger, spreading his legs as the flush spreads along his cheeks.

He never did such shameless things, not until Jesse coaxed him with sweet encouragement and praise, embarrassing, yes, but comforting beneath Jesse’s adoring, dark eyes.

Jesse clutches Hanzo’s thighs, groping them before slipping his hand inward; even beneath three fingers, Hanzo parts like a dream, hot and pliant. Hanzo thrills at how delicate Jesse looks between his legs, how enamored, mouth slack and slightly swollen from sucking.

“Think you can bring me off with such meager offering?” Hanzo grins, catching his hands behind each knee, showing himself off with confidence he does not feel, but the warmth blooms in his chest with how stunned Jesse looks, sucking in his lower lip and groaning.

“I aim to try.” Jesse breathes, grasping his cock in his hands, stroking once, savoring, before bumping it against Hanzo’s hole, sinking in with no resistance. “Oh— _fuck. Hanzo_.”

Hanzo groans, tosses his head but draws it back to watch Jesse fuck into him, dazed and maddened with their coupling, how pretty Jesse is, tawny skin against his blue, both sweat-slick and flushed.

Jesse will not last long; he can tell by how he swears, how his eyes gleam wild and fierce like he’s on the battlefield, a monster in his own right, crazed with single-minded intent. Hanzo grasps his own cock, strokes it loosely, fangs sinking into his lower lip with how hard Jesse grips his hips, bruising him while fucks forward with long, punishing thrusts, each shove delivering a wet, obscene smack that rings against the ancient stone.

He simply holds his cock as he feels his orgasm build behind his eyes, in the sweet pain between his hips, the intensity of Jesse’s motions urging him close to his own end.

“G-gonna...Hanzo...I…” He cannot feel the first telltale pulse of Jesse’s orgasm, so lost in finding his own peak, but the warm gush inside him cannot be denied, that last, hot surge shoving him over the brink.

Jesse has just enough strength to stare between their bodies as he locks his hips tight against Hanzo’s, spilling inside the impossible heat of the archer, watching Hanzo’s heavy balls _pulse_ as he comes, cock throbbing against the muscles of his stomach, coating blue with streaks of white. If he wasn’t coming yet, he would be from the sight of his lover writhing and crying his name, huge, powerful and impossibly beautiful, beneath him.

Jesse collapses on him with a grunt, still locked inside, tiredness that he hadn’t managed to shake the night before resettling in his body.

“H-hey. I did it.” Jesse says, grinning, smearing the mess next to Hanzo’s chest as the archer snorts.

“Fortunately for you. An oni’s ire is not something to take lightly.” Hanzo murmurs, shifting Jesse enough to clean them with a wayward scrap of clothing.

He weaves his arms behind Jesse’s back, watching his eyelashes flutter, sated and more comfortable than he has been in years.

“Suppose we could sleep a while longer?”

Hanzo nods, eased back into unconsciousness by the sound of Jesse’s soft snores.

* * *

The gunslinger and the archer set out in the evening, bracketed by the last threads of dusk’s light. A new quest leads their footsteps in this dark, forgotten world, but they do not fear it. Not when they can face its terrors together.

**Author's Note:**

> Got a fic idea? Find me on [tumblr](https://robotfvckers.tumblr.com/ask)!


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